


Obedience Training

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bestiality, Dehumanization, Dogs, HYDRA Trash Party, Humiliation, Leashes, M/M, Master/Pet, Multi, Puppy Play, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11118654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: When the asset misbehaves on a mission, he's given a different assignment that's meant to teach him a hard lesson.





	Obedience Training

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Ria's amazing artwork. Thanks to Trash Slack for encouragement and beta-ing, and for thefilthiestpiglet and hyperthetical for leading the trash charge!

“Good morning, bitch.”

A baton clattered against the bars of the cage, making the asset flinch. His skin caught against the rough concrete floor, pulling at the cuts and whip marks that layered his body. A whimper escaped his control, only partially muffled by his snout-shaped muzzle.

“Aw, is puppy scared?” Master loomed over him, grinning.

The asset quickly dropped his gaze. He knew better than to show aggression.

“Come on.” Master unlatched the door to the cage and let it swing open. “It’s time for your walk.”

The ever-present curl of fear in the asset’s stomach twisted. He scrambled onto all fours and slunk out of his cage, braced for a kick or a blow from the baton.

Instead, Master crouched down and held out one of the paw-shaped booties that fit over the asset’s hands. Without prompting, he slid his right hand inside and sat still as Master laced it tightly up his forearm. He repeated the procedure with the metal arm, working hard to stay docile and obedient, and to avoid panicking as he lost the use of his hands.

Since he was already wearing his kneepads, all that remained was the leash. He waited with his head bowed, and flinched when he heard metal jingling. Master had started using a padded leather collar and leash recently, but after yesterday, the asset wasn’t surprised at the return of the choke collar. Master clipped the steel links around the asset’s neck and pulled once, sending the prongs digging into the skin and making him cringe.

“You’re going to behave today, aren’t you, boy?” Master asked.

The asset offered an affirmative whine. He could obey. He was smart, and he was strong, and he could figure out how to be good for Master. When Master started walking, the asset fell into step at his side.

As they walked through the main corridor of the kennel, the large butt plug that held in the asset’s tail shifted uncomfortably. He knew he couldn’t really feel cum sloshing around inside him, that all the men who’d fucked him last night before Master plugged him were only a memory, but the unyielding bulk of the plug reminded him how sore his hole still was.

Master wasn’t tall, but he walked quickly, so the asset had to trot to keep up. He ignored the barking of the kennel’s other residents and focused on keeping enough slack in the lead to avoid being choked.

When they reached the end of the corridor, Master pushed open the door and led the asset out into the sunny yard. At the usual tree, Master paused expectantly. The asset lifted one leg and tried to summon that blankness of mind that he had in combat-- first one task, then the next. Early on, when he’d failed to accept what Master had been trying to teach him, the asset had spent several night lying in his cage in a puddle of his own mess, and several mornings shivering and yelping as Master hosed him down. He’d quickly learned better.

After the asset relieved himself, Master tugged firmly on his collar, and the asset fell into step, trotting at his master’s heels. Normally the parade grounds behind the kennel were empty, but today, the asset tracked movement at the far end of the yard-- a handful of soldiers standing around a black van, checking their gear. Were these the same ones who’d gone on that last mission with him-- the mission where he’d done something so terrible as to be demoted from his previous duty to this one? He didn’t remember. He must have been in the chair since then. If they never told him what he’d done wrong, how was he supposed to earn back his place?

“Heel!” The collar gouged into asset’s throat and Master’s boot landed sharply against his ribs, eliciting a pained yelp.

The asset scrambled to follow and avoid another punishing tug on the collar, but tripped over the awkward booties on his hands and landed hard on his shoulder. Master kicked him in the belly, knocking the wind out of him, then again as he struggled to get back on all fours, sending him sprawling again.

One of the soldiers approached - a tall man with dark hair and a dusting of stubble - and stood next to Master. One more hard kick landed, leaving the asset curled on his side.

“You treat your dogs like that?” the soldier asked.

“It’s not a real dog, Jack. Dogs, I like.” Master shoved the asset’s leg with the toe of his boot, pushing him onto his back, then mashed the sole of his foot against the asset’s exposed genitals.

The asset bit back the pain of that, as well as the discomfort of the butt plug shifting inside him as the fake tail pressed into the ground.

“You don’t get it, puppy.” Master braced a hand on his leg, mercifully keeping most of his weight off the asset’s crotch. “You’re not one of them.” He nodded towards the soldier and the squad a ways off, who’d all stopped to watch. “You’re an animal that does tricks. You do what the trainer tells you, you get a treat. You don’t think for yourself. You don’t piss unless you’re told to. You sure as shit don’t go running off on your own for three days because you think you have a better plan than me. Understand?”

The asset knew better than to speak, but he looked between Master and the other soldier, pleading with his eyes for approval.

With a twist at the corner of his mouth that might have been a smile, the soldier crouched next to the asset. “If you can’t be trained to obey, we’ve got no use for you in the field. Nothing left but for you to be a toy for the real soldiers to use. You don’t want that, do you? You want to be a good boy, don’t you?”

The asset wondered if this soldier had been one of those who fucked him last night, for hours until he was raw and bleeding. One of the soldiers who’d whipped him to make him scream. One of those who’d beat him while he was being fucked so he’d tense up. He looked back at Master.

“You’re going to do everything I say-- and only what I say-- from now on, aren’t you?” Master leaned forward, crushing the asset’s soft cock and balls under his boot. “Aren’t you?”

Unable to hold back the reaction any longer, the asset shouted into his muzzle. Master stepped back, laughing, and the asset could hear the watching soldiers laughing as well.

“Hey, I’m supposed to tell you the boss wanted you to bring it in for inspection.” The soldier quirked his mouth again, that cruel smile. “But we’ll see you later.”

Master clapped the soldier on the shoulder and walked on. The asset was barely able to get to all fours in time to avoid being dragged along by his leash. He kept his head down, actively tuning out the lingering pain and hoping to avoid any more distractions that would end in punishment. He would be good from now on. He would do everything Master wanted.  
\--

 

As they walked through the halls of the administration building, no one looked at the asset. Soldiers and even a few civilians passed by without so much as a glance. Master stopped once to chat with a woman repairing some sort of computer station. The asset sat as he’d been trained and waiting patiently, but they both ignored him. Master moved on with a firm tug on the leash, but made no move to praise or correct him.

They’d crossed into a wing of offices of which the asset had no memory, when Master suddenly stopped. The door before them was half open, but Master paused to rap his knuckles against the door frame.

“Come in,” someone called.

“Heel,” Master said, then lowered his voice. “And you’d better fucking behave.”

Inside, a man in a suit sat behind a large desk. He wrote a few more words, then closed the file folder and looked up at the asset and his master. “Ah, yes, come in, come in.”

When he pushed back his chair and stood, the asset noted that he was tall, but not as fit as Master-- not a soldier or a fighter. In a combat situation, the asset would have been able to eliminate him easily. Still, something about his face sparked a twist of fear in the asset’s belly.

“Sit, boy,” Master snapped.

The asset sat, folding down to press his ass to the cold tile floor. He wasn’t supposed to think about combat. He was not in a combat situation now, and unless he pleased his master, he might not be ever again.

“Seems you’ve made some progress, Agent Rumlow. Here, let me see him.” The suited man cleared the file he’d been working on off of his otherwise pristine desk, and pulled a straight-backed chair up beside it.

Master tugged the asset forward. Gingerly, mindful of his reduced dexterity with his hands encased in mitts, the asset used the chair to crawl onto the desk. Once there, Master unclipped his lead from the collar. The asset turned his head to look for the other man, but Master grabbed his chin with bruising force and jerked him back to face forward.

“Stay,” Master snapped. He looked over the asset’s head. “Sorry, sir. He’s got a ways to go yet.”

“I understand.” the suited man’s voice sounded warm, almost kind. “I had hoped we could do this another way. Positive reinforcement tends to provide more lasting results. However, considering the strictures we’re under with this one… Well, your methods may be more blunt, but they seem to be having an effect. Let me see what we have here.”

The man stepped up in front of the desk, looming in the asset’s peripheral vision. His hand settled on the asset’s head, just behind the strap of his muzzle, the pressed down along the asset’s back, tugging at the cuts and abrasions that covered him.

“You know,” the man said, “I had an aunt who used to show dogs. Bred some real champions.” The touch trailed over the asset’s ass and then down around the plug that held his tail in place.

“Having good material to work with is something-- good genes, perfect conformation.” The man squeezed the muscles of the asset’s thigh, then reached under the asset to tug firmly at his balls-- still tender from when Master had stepped on him earlier--and slid his curled fingers down the shaft of the asset’s soft cock. The asset repressed a whimper and stood still, looking straight forward, as he had been ordered.

“But the real key was attitude. The animal needed to know their place. They had to want, with every fiber of their being, to please their master.” The man moved around to the asset’s head. With one finger, he tipped up the asset’s chin. The asset attempted to keep his focus in the middle distance rather than stare at the man who was handling him so casually.

“That’s the difference between the average pet and something special, something useful. Something worth keeping.” The man pushed the asset’s head to the left, then the right. Finally, he rubbed his hands down the asset’s shoulders, lingering over the scar tissue on the left side. The asset shivered as the man patted him on the head, right between his fake ears, and then turned away. “I understand there was an incident last night?”

“Nothing some remedial training won’t fix.” Master clipped the leash back onto the asset’s collar and tugged on it to turn him around and guide him back down to the floor. “There’s a plan in place.”

“I trust you’ll take care of it.” The man resumed his seat at his desk, pulled out the file he’d been working on, and without looking up, said, “You’re dismissed.”  
\--

 

No one spoke to the asset as Master led him through the administration building and back out into the yard. The soldiers were gone, the parade ground empty. But Master did not stop to chain the asset to a post in the yard as he had most other days. Instead, they continued straight into the kennels. At the end of the main corridor, Master pushed open a door the asset hadn’t been through before.

Fluorescent lights flickered on overhead, and the door slammed shut behind them. Master bent down to unhook the leash from the asset’s collar. He held the loose coil of the leash in one hand as he walked away. Without clear orders to stay or heel, the asset looked around, hoping for some clue as to why he’d been brought here.

His attention was drawn by a metal contraption in the center of the room, a set-up the asset had never seen. It appeared to be simple metal pieces, bars and loops, welded into a base on the floor. His stomach clenched, and his master’s words rang in his head-- “remedial training.” Whatever this equipment was meant for, it wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Come.” Master stopped next to the metal stand and snapped his fingers. The asset froze, his mouth dry and his heart beating rapidly.

“I said come here, boy. Don’t make me say it again.”

The asset slunk across the floor to where his master stood. As soon as he was close enough, Master grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into the position he wanted-- in the midst of the mysterious equipment.

Master fastened the first metal circle around his waist. It fit snugly, with hardly any give for breathing. Master turned a locking mechanism and pulled on it to test its strength. It held firm, both around the asset’s body, and to the bar that attached it to the base on the floor. Next, Master fastened another loop around his torso, under his shoulders, this one spaced lower to the ground, putting his shoulders below the level of his hips. It fit as if it had been made for him, and once Master had locked it, it wasn’t moving. Finally, Master fastened his collar to a short chain that attached to the floor, forcing his head down and his ass up.

“Now that’s a pretty sight. Bitch presenting like it knows its place.” Master strode around him, and although the asset couldn’t turn his head to look, he could hear the sound of heavy boots on concrete. Master stopped behind him and rested his hand on the asset’s upturned ass. “And as much as your cute little outfit adds to the picture, I have to make some practical concessions.”

Master wrapped his hand around the asset’s fake tail and pulled firmly. The plug inside the asset shifted, and his sore muscles protested. The asset gritted his teeth to keep any noises of discomfort from escaping through the muzzle. Master kept pulling until the oversized plug that held the tail in slid out of the asset with a trickle of fluid.

“You’re a gaping mess, boy.” Master slid two fingers into the asset’s stretched hole. “None of the men are going to be interested in this.”

The asset wanted to tell Master that he’d be good-- that he’d find a way to please them. If he was not even fit for duty as a recreational amenity, they might decommission him. But bound as he was, the asset couldn’t move, couldn’t attempt any of the little tricks he’s been taught, like begging on his knees, or shaking his ass to make the tail wag, that seemed to make Master happy. He wasn’t permitted to speak, either, so how could he make Master understand?

“Relax, boy.” Master petted his free hand down the asset’s flank, and the asset realized he was trembling. “We’ll find something to do with you.” Master’s fingers pulled out of him, then returned cool and slick with some viscous substance. The touch felt soothing against his hole, still raw from last night, when he’d spent hours being fucked by Master and his companions.

“You know what this is? Special pheromone mixture. They use it to get breeding stock riled up. Dogs can smell this from miles away. Figured since you’d gotten used to the muzzle and paws and all, this was the logical next step.”

The asset felt lightheaded, the pain in his body far away and hazy. He wasn’t certain what Master’s words implied, but he decided to revel in the gentle touching while it was on offer. He pushed back as well as he could against Master’s fingers.

“You like that, bitch? Yeah you do.” Master upended the jar, dribbling the last of its contents over the asset’s upturned ass. The excess dripped between his legs, spilling over his balls and his flaccid cock.

“Now, you stay.” Master walked around in front of the asset and leaned down to look him in the eye. “Be a good boy.” Then he walked away, leaving the asset alone and immobilized.

For a long time, nothing happened. At least back in his cage, the asset had been able to keep an eye on his surroundings. Here, he couldn’t see behind him, couldn’t move his head with his collar chained down. He would heard the whir of the cooling system and the faint sound of far away voices, but he was alone.

The asset began to wonder if this was the punishment-- to be left alone and idle, helpless, until he was incapacitated by starvation or pain. That didn’t seem likely. He had maintained function in previous missions despite experiencing malnutrition or extreme pain. Surely Master knew that to reach truly punitive levels under these circumstances, the punishment would need to last quite a long time. Closing his eyes, the asset attempted to regulate his breathing. If this was the punishment Master had chosen for him, it must be what he deserved. He would be patient.  
\--

The asset might have been dozing when the rattle and creak of a chain link gate broke the silence. Then came the the click of claws on concrete. Where there were dogs, there were always men as well. Perhaps Master had returned. The asset stilled himself and remained alert, waiting for orders, but none came. Instead, a dog appeared in his peripheral vision-- one of the big mastiffs he’d seen in the kennel as Master took him on his daily walk. Another dog, this one a pitbull, followed close behind.

A low snort drew the asset’s attention to his other side, where yet another dog was nosing at his shoulder. Suddenly aware of how vulnerable his vital organs were in this position, the asset jerked against his bonds. They gave not at all, but the dog at his side delivered a swift, warning nip, and the asset subsided. Another dog nudged between his legs to nose at his balls. Then the asset felt the scrape of a rough tongue against the shaft of his cock. A high-pitched sound of distress escaped him, only partially muffled by his muzzle, and the dog between his legs backed off.

The asset attempted a situation assessment-- no weapons, extremely limited movement capability, impaired range of vision, outnumbered by enemies. Dogs brushed past him, rubbed against him, blocked his view of the room. If they attacked as a group, the asset would have difficulty defending himself. Why had Master left him here? Was it a test? Perhaps these animals had escaped from their cages, and Master wouldn’t like it if the asset allowed himself to become damaged. The asset strained in earnest against his bonds as he hadn’t dared to do when Master first positioned him. They did not break, or even bend. They must have been designed to hold him-- some vibranium reinforced alloy, like his cage. Like the chair. They wanted to keep him here. They wanted to hurt him.

Still, the dogs did not seem to be attacking. The mastiff jumped up to brace his paws on the asset’s shoulders, then began to thrust, pushing its crotch against Bucky’s cheek and shoving his head as far as it would go. A wiry doberman snapped at a shaggy mutt who was sniffing at the asset’s neck. The doberman scrambled to mount the asset, his claws scratching the asset’s naked back and side, re-opening the healing cuts and welts, and produced a jolting squeal when they scraped against the metal arm.

The dog’s hips worked frantically, humping against the asset until its cock jabbed into the asset’s slicked hole. Once it had penetrated the asset, it seemed to double its efforts, clamping its front legs around the asset’s torso and thrusting deep inside him over and over.

The asset struggled against the restraints, even knowing they would not move. Strategy had fled, leaving a blind, animal fear. The doberman growled as it fucked the asset-- one creature reminding another of its place. This wasn’t right. The asset didn’t want to submit to this.

Then he heard his master’s words again, mingled with the memory of pain. “You’re going to do everything I say from now on, aren’t you?” Master had told him to stay. Even as a dog fucked the asset, stabbing its cock into the asset’s ass at a punishing pace, Master might be watching. The asset’s reactions-- the heart racing, cheeks flushed, stomach clenched as if with some acute sickness-- didn’t matter. He had no reason to resist what was being done to him, because his master had ordered it. He was a tool of HYDRA, a strong and obedient asset. There was no reason for everything within him to be screaming to resist, to escape, to stop this no matter the cost.

The doberman kept fucking him, stretching out the rim of his hole as the dog’s thick knot worked its way inside, locking the two of them together. The dog panted as its thrusts turned erratic and frantic, breath hot on the asset’s neck.

The asset was supposed to endure this. This was how the asset showed his obedience. He wasn’t meant to experience the fear that choked his throat as the doberman dug its claws in and gave a final series of thrusts, pumping its seed into the asset’s guts.

The dog slid off the asset’s back, but remained tied to him by the swollen knot lodged inside the asset’s ass. It tried idly to pull away, and the asset winced as his over-stuffed hole clenched against the bulk of the dog’s knot.

The rest of the pack had begun to gather around the asset, jumping up on him and humping any part they could reach. The asset put his head down as far as he could with all the restraints, and tried to control his rising panic.

He was not injured-- the dog’s knot inside him hurt, yes, but any damage he incurred would not compromise his functioning in combat. Many humans had fucked the asset, and although that act was often accompanied by unpleasant physical sensations, it had never induced the same level of sick fear that currently gripped the asset. He didn’t want an animal inside him. He didn’t want this to be his function within HYDRA.

The asset thrashed against the restraints, gulping in air as the dog pack pressed in around him. The choke collar bit into his neck as he struggled, but the pain barely registered. Another dog, a dark, muscled labrador, growled and nipped at the asset’s side. The asset shrugged him off, using all of his limited range of motion to buck and wriggle, even as the doberman’s knot still throbbed inside him.

“Stop it. Down, boy.”

At the sound of his master’s voice, the asset stopped fighting immediately. He tensed, waiting for punishment. Master strode into the asset’s line of sight and leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

“I told you to stay. I thought you were going to be a good boy.”

The asset couldn’t deny that his behavior had deviated from his master’s orders. It had been involuntary, but that didn’t matter, he knew. His head dropped in submission.

“What you don’t seem to get, you conceited little bitch, is that you don’t get to say no to us. You don’t get to say no to anything.” Master stepped forward, knelt in front of the asset, and patted the head of a huge German Shepard that was watching the asset with a slobbery grin. “Even these dogs outrank you. They want to fuck you, you let them fuck you, and make sure they enjoy it. You do not get to pick and choose what orders to follow. If I tell you to shoot someone, you fucking do it.”

Master grabbed the asset’s hair behind his fake dog ears and pulled his head up, sending the prongs of his collar stabbing into his neck and cutting off his breathing. “You do not say no to me, you worthless fucking cunt. Now do what I say, and show me you know your goddamn place.”

Master released him and stepped away. The dogs surged forward, clamoring for their turn and humping their target indiscriminately as the doberman finally pulled its softening knot loose with a wet squelch. Almost immediately, another dog-- the asset didn’t see which one-- wrapped its paws around the asset’s waist and thrust sloppily against his ass until its cock slid home, filling the asset’s sore and gaping hole.

Perhaps this dog was bigger, or perhaps the first dog had simply left him tender, because pain radiated out from where the asset was being fucked. Every thrust sent sparks of pain jolting through the asset, somehow much more distracting than any wounds he’d ever received in combat. When this one’s knot began to swell, the asset bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. The pressure of the knot felt unlike any pain the asset had felt from a stab wound or bullet hole-- this was red hot, impossible to ignore, as if he was being torn open from the inside. The dog whined and clawed at the asset’s back as it pumped him full of semen. His slobber dribbled onto the asset’s neck and into his hair as the dog slumped on top of him, panting.

Time bled into a meaningless stretch. The asset’s only task was to control himself, to squash that ever-more-urgent voice inside screaming to resist. He would choose again, each instant, to obey. If being the best possible asset meant rooting out even the desire to contradict orders, perhaps he needed this lesson. Perhaps he needed to be here, letting a fourth (fifth?) dog fuck him, violently humping into him and drooling onto his back, in order to crush some unconscious part of him that did not know his place.

Each time another dog jabbed its cock inside him, more come was pushed out of the asset’s overflowing hole to smear across his ass and drip down his balls. Some of the dogs licked idly at the asset’s scratches and cuts, or at his soft cock, and the asset made no move to struggle or flinch away. Every part of him was theirs to use, theirs to hurt or destroy. He had no right to challenge them.

Some of the dogs who’d already fucked the asset lay down a few feet away, dozing or watching their fellow pack members enthusiastically fuck the unresisting asset. He wondered if they would decide to fuck him again once the other dogs were done, if there were enough dogs to fuck the asset continuously, around the clock, for as long as Master wanted this punishment to last.

The asset was biting back a cry as a girthy rottweiler tugged its knot free, when a whistle shrilled from a short distance away, and a gate rattled open. All the dogs within the asset’s line of sight trotted off, and the asset was left alone, his muscles screaming from being made to hold such an unnatural position, his ass gaping from the last dog’s knot, and his mind mercifully blank.

“Good morning, bitch.”

Master was there at his side. He pushed the asset’s large plug, with its attached tail, into his ass, trapping the copious remnants of the pack’s come inside him. It went in easily, after he’d been stretched so wide open by a progression of knots. When Master unclipped his leash and unlocked the metal rings that held him into the breeding stand, the asset had to make several attempts to make his limbs move in order to crawl free of his confinement. He immediately lay down before his master, pushing his muzzle to the floor. He needed his master to know how sorry he was for his misbehavior, how thoroughly he’d learned his lesson.

“Aw, is puppy apologizing?”

The asset knew better than to try to answer in words, but he managed a soft whine.

“There, there, I know it hurts.” Master leaned down to scratch the asset’s head behind his ears. “This is a good start. Once you’ve done this for a week, we’ll see how well you’ve learned to behave. Now you’d better get some rest. After they’re fed, the dogs are going to want another turn with their bitch.”


End file.
